


Miss Winters

by TomorrowNeverCame



Category: American Horror Story, Miss Stevens (2016)
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Drama & Romance, Emotional Baggage, Everyone has a crush on Miss Stevens, F/F, I really couldn't help myself, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Relationship, Rachel Stevens is a disaster bisexual, Road Trip, raulson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-06-04 18:24:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15152993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomorrowNeverCame/pseuds/TomorrowNeverCame
Summary: Miss Stevens volunteers to take three students to a weekend drama competition, bringing along all their emotional baggage as well. And--at the very last minute--Lana Winters, a local reporter writing an article on the importance of high school arts programs.Basically just a retelling of Miss Stevens with Lana Winters along for the ride, because that tiny sexuality subplot could have been so much better, and I'm just desperate for Lily Rabe and Sarah Paulson to play romantic interests since AHS has failed us so far.





	1. Thursday Night/Friday Morning

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't watching Miss Stevens, do it. It's an amazing movie, and it's on Netflix.

The applause blends with the rushing in her ears. She is underwater, unable to breathe, the stage a pinpoint of far-off light that she’ll never be able to reach. She can’t bring herself to move, staring at that light.

“Are you, uh, waiting for someone?” Rachel startles out of her reverie. The theater is empty, when had that happened? She shakes her head, words catching in her throat.

“No. Sorry, I was…” She shakes her head again. How can she explain? “Sorry.”

“No worries, take your time,” the man says kindly.

Self-conscious now, she grabs her bag and hurries out. Her old blue station wagon is only one of a few left in the parking lot, and she pauses as her fingers brush it’s handle, eyes closed tightly against the threatening tears. With a deep breath, she yanks the door open and drops into the seat, knuckles white on the steering wheel the whole drive home.

Her apartment is dark, and it's several seconds before she can bring herself to turn on the lights. She hangs up her coat mechanically and shuffles into the kitchen only to grab a bottle of vodka and, after some debate, a glass.

She sits on the edge of the couch, breathing deeply, one hand tight around her tumbler and the other clenching a handful of her green skirt. A fresh wave of tears stings the corners of her eyes, and she sinks back into the cushions with a sigh, staring blankly up at the ceiling. She doesn’t dare look anywhere else. Everything around her is a reminder.

***

She only has enough energy the next morning to redo her bun, change clothes, and make a cup of instant coffee. Luckily, her small rolling suitcase sits next to her bed, already having been packed the afternoon before. 

The radio plays some song she really isn’t listening to as she sips the terrible coffee and tries to steel herself for the coming day. The world feels unfocused, muted, and she’ll never be able to deal with a room full of teenagers in that state. Still, the most she can do is attempt a smile at the janitor she passes in the hall on the way to her classroom. It’s a very small, pitiful attempt, but an attempt nonetheless. Luckily, she has about an hour before students start arriving for the day, and she uses the time to wander the room, straightening books here and picking up scraps of paper there.

She tries throwing one balled-up scrap into the trash, and shakes her head at herself pathetically when it misses. Of course it would miss. Of course. She bends down to retrieve it and pointedly drops it into the bin. What a way to start the day.

***

“The thing that really spoke to me was the idea of emotional freedom.” Margot sits in the front row, measuring each word that comes out of her mouth carefully. "Like, leaving yourself, being free. ‘Cause most people aren’t in institutions, obviously.” She smiles at her own attempt at humor. “But we’re all locked up in some way.” Rachel paces back to her desk, using the bitter taste of lukewarm coffee to distract from the ache behind her eyes.

“We are, aren’t we?” She jumps in, gesturing.

"So, when—“

“School is an institution. It’s not an institution,” she jokes, earning a chuckle from the class that makes her smile, "but it’s still a place that we have to go, everyday, and it can feel like…you’re stuck. Like you’re not allowed to be yourself all of the time, right? What are some other places that can feel like that?”

“Sorry, Miss Stevens?” Margot speaks up, hand half-raised.

“Yes, Margot.”

“Can we get back to the ending?”

“Sure.” She smiles apologetically. "Yes, the ending. You were saying that when McMurphy has—“

“What did you think?” A new, male voice speaks up from somewhere in the back, and her eyes find Billy.

“Excuse me?” She raises her own hand and waits until Billy sheepishly does the same.

“What did you think of the ending?” The response is on the tip of her tongue when a boy next to Billy laughs.

“Nice try, man.”

“Calm down, I read it,” Billy answers lightly.

“Guys—“ Rachel warns.

“Oh, really? Really? Just like you read The Great Gatsby?”

“Guys!”

“Why don’t you just watch the movie?”

“Actually, watching movies aren’t really a safe way to cheat,” Margot jumps in, eyes seeking Rachel’s with a gesture that seems to say, can you believe these two?

“Just ‘cause someone doesn’t talk every time they feel like talking, doesn’t mean they didn’t read the book,” Billy snaps.

“Guys!” Rachel almost yells, finally getting them to turn back to her. “Done?” She asks rhetorically, smiling a little. "Let’s get back to the book.”

“What did you think?” Billy pipes up, apparently unfazed by her warnings. She turns back to him in mild surprise.

“Of the ending?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I love it,” she smiles, glancing around the room. "Okay, this is what I want to do.”

***

Students file out after the bell, and Rachel sits at her desk, attention only half on the papers in front of her as she listens to Margot update her, as she has every day for the past two weeks, on their trip.

“So I checked with the front office, and they have all the petty cash all ready to go, and they double checked and all our permission slips are in. So we’re all set for the drama competition.” The girl grins excitedly, and Rachel finally looks up at her with a grateful smile.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And we’re leaving after third period, yes?”

“That’s the plan.”

“And thank you for taking us,” Margot continues, heedless of the clock ticking down to her next class, "I had to ask three other teachers before you volunteered to come.” Rachel nods in surprise, but her attention is grabbed before she can reply.

“Billy?” Rachel calls, stopping the lanky boy from leaving. He approaches the desk awkwardly, eyes moving between Rachel and Margot, who still hasn’t left. The three of them stand silently for a beat too long.

“Hi, Margot,” Billy says, an edge in his voice.

“Hi, Billy.” Rachel looks between them, uncertain, but Margot shows no signs of leaving.

“Billy, when are we going the Gatsby make up?” The boy’s face contorts in realization.

“Shit!”

“Margot?” Rachel grabs her attention, nodding her head towards the door pointedly and finally, the blonde girl seems to get the hint.

“Oh, right. See you both at—?”

“—twelve,” Rachel finishes, turning her full attention on Billy as the girl leaves. "First of all, no cursing. Second of all, did you finish the book?”

“Yes, I did,” Billy says sharply, like he expects her not to believe him. Rachel sighs.

“It’s been two weeks. I don’t wanna fail you. What’s going on?”

“I’m just having trouble caring about a lot of things right now.” He shrugs.

“Are you talking to anyone?”

“Hmm. ‘Anyone’?” Billy looks over her head, brows furrowed in thought.

“Are you?” She presses.

“Just ‘cause people are the people you’re supposed to talk to, it doesn’t mean you can talk to them,” he gives by way of answer, the bell ringing for second period before she can respond.

Second period goes smoothly, and she comes back to herself a little more each time she talks, reinvigorated by her love for their current book. Even Billy is pushed from her mind.

***

Without a third-period class, Rachel takes her time laying out the lesson plan for her substitute and packing up papers she plans to grade while at the competition, humming softly to herself. Glancing at the clock, it’s almost halfway through the period, and she decides to head down to see the principal for their last check-in. 

She feels awkwardly like a teenager again, sitting and waiting to be called into the office, a perception that isn’t helped when a band kid takes the seat right next to her despite the availability of others. She fiddles with her fingers uncomfortably, smiles at him, and tries not to move too fast when her name is called not a minute later.

“Miss Stevens,” the Hispanic man greets, half-rising to shake her hand.

“Principal Alvarez,” she returns with a smile, taking the offered hand for a moment before they both sit down.

“So, just a few things before you go,” he starts, drumming his pen on a yellow legal pad. "I’m sure your kids are all caught up in their class work, yes?” 

“Uh, why?” She stutters, thinking of Billy’s Gatsby test.

“They can’t go on the trip if they’re missing assignments,” he explains, “school policy. I already spoke to the other teachers, and so I’m just checking—“

“Oh, yes. No. Of course. Yeah, of course.” The lie slips out before she can think about it, and she sighs to herself. It was fine; she could just have him take it this weekend and put the grade in Monday morning. No one would notice.

“Okay. Good, good. Our main concern is, uh, William Mitman.” She looks up in surprise.

“Billy?” She bites her lip, recalling the conversation they’d had earlier. 

“Yeah, Billy. I don’t know if you’re aware of his issues—” That makes her eyebrows hit her hairline. “—but we wouldn’t be letting him go unless he was a hundred percent. But Legal just wants to make sure that I discuss this will you, just to keep your eyes open,” Alvarez reassures, or tries to. Rachel narrows her eyes at him, questions on the tip of her tongue. "What he has is a behavioral disorder. And he will be taking his medication with him on the trip.” She nods along, fighting the urge to ask why she’s only hearing about this now. "He’s allowed to administer the medication himself. Between you and me, um, I think there’s just...some tension at home, so they just wanna show him a little trust by letting him go on this trip. But you have my number, so if you need me, call.” 

“Uh, um, okay. Okay,” she stammers, “is there anything else?”

“Yeah, if you could just hang on a second.” Alvarez stands and shuffles to lean out the doorway. “Miss Winters?” Rachel looks over her shoulder at him, peering with curiosity at the stylish brunette who appears in the doorway, but blushes and looks away when she realizes the woman’s eyes had been scanning her as well. Alvarez reseats himself and gestures to their new guest.

“Miss Winters is a local reporter,” he says, “I’ve convinced the paper to send her with you to write an article on the competition.” Rachel looks at him questioningly, arms folded. He sighs, leaning forward. “We both know that the district board has no shortage of excuses for cutting our arts funding. But if we can get some good press—you know, show how it benefits the kids, and even better, if one of our students actually won—maybe they’d be inclined to give some money back.”

“No, that’s—that’s a good idea. Having the drama program back would be great, I know these kids are really interested in it.” Half turning, she stands and reaches her hand out to the reporter.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Winters.” The slightly older woman gives her a dazzling smile and grasps her hand in a confident grip.

“Please, call me Lana,” she says.

“I’m Miss Steve—uh, I’m, I’m Rachel,” she offers her own embarrassed smile, heat climbing to her cheeks at the amused look the brunette gives her. “If that’s all—“ she starts, turning back to the principal, who waves her off.

“Yes, yes, you’re good to go! Have fun this weekend, both of you,” he says, already scanning the next piece of paperwork. Rachel nods and follows Lana back into the waiting area. Shuffling her feet, she blows out a breathe.

“Um, I don’t know if you were planning to drive yourself but, um, if you’d like to—you know, to save gas—I’ve got an extra seat in my car,” she offers. Lana, still amused by the younger woman’s obvious awkwardness, nods.

“That would be lovely, thank you. I can grab my bag from my car and meet you at the entrance?”

“Sure! I’ve just got to grab a few things from my classroom, but I’ll just be five minutes,” she says, already walking backwards.

Lana chuckles as Rachel leaves. There’s something endearing about her, even if she does need to relax a little.

Rachel cringes as she walks back to her classroom, replaying everything that just happened. Why, why did she lie? Well, she knows why; it would crush Billy if he couldn’t go. And if he really is having issues—which she definitely should have been informed about before today—then he could really use a weekend doing something fun.

Her bag is already mostly packed, so she just has to stuff in the folder with the Gatsby make-up and grab her coat, and then she’s out the door again.

“Lana?” She calls, spotting the reporter leaning against the wall outside the building. The brunette smiles and rubs out her cigarette against the brick, tossing it in the trash as she approaches. “Ready to go?”

“After you,” she waves. Together they trek around to the side lot and load up, smiling at each other as they climb into the front seats.

The three students are already waiting when they pull up to the sidewalk, and Rachel can count the number of times Margot checks her watch in those thirty seconds. Billy and Sam, however, seem more interested in the woman accompanying her. Lana sits patiently as Rachel stops the car and gets out, fumbling with her bag and coat and tossing an uncooperative scarf back through the window. Billy slides into the backseat seconds later, apparently not having any luggage other than his backpack, and looks at her curiously.

“Who’re you?” Lana opens her mouth to answer when the two opposite doors open and Rachel slides in with a sigh, closely followed by Sam and Margot squeezing into the back.

“Alright. Kids, this is Miss Winters,” Rachel introduces. “She’s writing an article on the drama competition for the newspaper, so Principal Alvarez thought she could get to know us.”

“Hi, Margot Jensen,” Margot greets, stretching forward to shake the woman’s hand.

“Sam,” the boy in the middle introduces himself, also taking her hand.

“Billy,” the last of them just offers a small wave.

“Oh, Billy,” Rachel calls, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror, “I brought the test.” Billy sighs and rolls his eyes. “You’re taking it this weekend, no excuses.”

“Uh, what test?” Margot asks, leaning forward between the front seats.

“Take care of yourself, Margot,” the teacher warns.

“Oh, the Gatsby test?” The blonde girl plows on. “Why didn’t Billy take—“

“Margot.”

“Sorry.”

“Okay. We ready?” She starts the car, and they’re off.


	2. Friday Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything that can go wrong, does, on the way to the drama competition, but at least Lana seems nice.

The silence in the car was weighed, at least to Lana. None of them had anything to say to each other, so they all just stared out the windows, except for Sam, trapped in the middle seat. And Rachel. Lana’s lips turned up as she watched the blonde teacher, bobbing her head to the radio, totally zoned out.

“What’s that light?” Billy asks, reaching an arm between the front seats to point at her dash. Lana raises her eyebrows, following his line of sight.

“That? That thing’s been on forever,” Rachel replies.

“Wait, your warning light is on?” Margot speaks up incredulously.

“It’s nothing."

“Well, if it were nothing it wouldn’t be on,” Margot presses.

“It’s—it’s a really old car, it kind of just does things sometimes."

“It ‘just does things sometimes’?”

“Do you want us to stop and deal with it even though we’re already running late?” Billy asks the girl pointedly. Margot bites the inside of her cheek, subdued for only a moment before a light comes back into her eyes.

“Well, on behalf of all of us, I would just like to say how grateful we are that you’re taking us to the competition. I mean,” she gestures around the car, “ since the school cut our arts program it’s important to get exposure wherever we can.”

“Yeah, seriously,” Sam chimes in.

“And to you, Miss Winters, for coming this weekend and supporting us.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Lana replies.

“Don’t you think it’s interesting, Miss Stevens,” Margot continues, “that we spend almost every day together and we talk about so many different things, but we don’t really know each other? I mean, not really.” She glances around the car for support, huffing in frustration when her classmates offer none.

“I think we’re gonna stop for gas soon,” Rachel tells them all after a few minutes of silence. They pull of at the next exit and all get out, grateful for the chance to stretch their legs. Margot immediately grabs Sam’s arm and tugs him inside to look for snacks and Rachel follows behind them at a slower pace, while Billy takes off in the other direction, and Lana stays in the car.

Gas paid for, Rachel returns to the pump, and after a few moments Lana joins her, leaning against the car door.

“So, how long have you been teaching?” Rachel startles a bit, having been lost in thought, and Lana grins at her.

“This is my fourth year,” she replies. “My first at this school, though. I teach English. I don’t—don’t know if you know that or…” she trails off, laughing at her own blunder and squinting into the sun. Her eyes narrow further as they slide to the right and find the figure of Billy, sitting on top of a car with a cigarette. 

“Um, how long have you been a reporter?” She asks in return, tearing her attention away with a note to keep an eye on the boy.

“Almost a decade,” Lana tells her, chuckling at the younger woman’s surprised noise. “I know, you’d think I wouldn’t still be doing field assignments like this. Not that I don’t want to be here,” she adds quickly. “This is a subject I’m passionate about, and I volunteered to go, but they only agreed to send me because the usual arts and entertainment guy didn’t think it was worth it.” She rolls her eyes. “My boss is a chauvinist who would rather have me stuck writing women’s health and the cooking section for the next ten years.”

“I’m surprised he’d even let a woman write women’s health, considering how much men seem to love believing they know our bodies better than we do,” she replies drily, making Lana laugh in earnest. 

“I like you, Miss Stevens,” she says with another smile, climbing back into the car as the gas finishing pumping, leaving Rachel to contemplate the flush in her cheeks alone.

***

“I wanna talk to you about life,” Sam begins, gesturing theatrically. "It’s just too difficult to be alive, isn’t it? And to try to function. There are all these people to deal with. Like, when I was at the supermarket, trying to buy a can of tuna fish, and there was someone standing right in front of where I wanted to reach out and grab the tuna fish. And I waited a while to see if they’d move, but they didn’t. They were looking at the tuna fish, too, but they were talking a really long time, and they’re reading each ingredient like they were a bo—“ A thud jerks the car, its inhabitants going wide-eyed.

“What was that?” Margot asks tensely.

“Shit,” Rachel says, eyes sliding closed in horror until she feels the others’ eyes on her and claps a hand over her mouth. "Oh, shit, sorry.”

“No, seriously, what was that?” Sam echoes.

“I think it was the tire.”

“Oh, my God!” Margot shrieks.

“Fuck!” Rachel yells. "Sorry. Shit."

“Oh, my God!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Rachel apologizes again, pulling over and turning toward the back seat. "Sam. Sam, your monologue was really good so far, I’m sorry.” Sam nods back, mouthing a ‘thank you’.

“It’s Christopher Durang, right?” Billy asks from beside him, making Sam smile happily.

“I didn’t think you knew who Christopher—“

“Guys!” Margot cuts in. "We are sitting on the side of the road.”

“Right,” Rachel sighs.

“It was the warning light, wasn’t it?”

“It wasn’t the warning light, Margot,” Lana cuts in, placing a reassuring hand lightly on the teacher’s shoulder.

“Oh, Jesus!” The blonde girl scoffs.

“You guys, please. Guys, please, please. Come on, stop,” Rachel begs.

“You are driving other people’s children in an unfit automobile,” Margot shoots back.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m really embarrassed.” She turns back to the wheel, running a hand over her hair.

“Why are you embarrassed?” Billy asks.

“Because I am the asshole who ignores a big, flashing orange light,” she says, words emphasized by frustrated hands,

“You curse a lot,” Sam points out with raised brows.

“I know.”

“When we’re at school—“ Billy starts.

“It’s just a switch,” she says, mortified.

“Why isn’t the switch on now?” 

“I—be—because we—we’re—we’re not at school,” she offers lamely.

“But, like, we are,” Margot says. Billy purses his lips in thought as the car falls silent.

“Right. Okay.” Rachel gets out of the car and heads towards the back tire, cellphone in hand.

“It’s not her fault, Margot,” Lana says. “Sometimes tires just blow. There can be pieces of metal or glass in the road that are too small to see.” Margot falls back against her seat, fiddling with her necklace and checking her watch.

“We’re gonna be so late,” she says. “I have to call the hotel. I’m gonna call the hotel.” She fishes the phone out of her bag. “Hi, this is Margot Jensen from Franklin High School. Is this the front desk?”

Lana zones out as she watches Rachel pace in the mirror. She chews on her lip in indecision for a moment before getting out of the car and joining the frazzled woman leaning against the trunk. Rachel frowns at her, fingers pausing in their attempt to ruin her bun.

“Lana, I am so sorry. I should have just let you take your own car, you’d be there by now instead of stuck here with us and—“

“Hey,” the brunette soothes, rubbing the younger woman’s arm. “Hey, it’s not a big deal. I’d just be sitting bored in my hotel room waiting for you all to show up,” she jokes, pleased when Rachel cracks a smile at her.

“This would be significantly less fun without another adult here.”

“I can imagine,” Lana chuckles, “I have no idea how you teachers deal with so many kids running around you all day. My ex taught third grade, and it absolutely baffled me when she’d say being around all those kids actually gave her energy.” Rachel looks at her strangely when she mentions Wendy and opens her mouth to say something when they hear a horn and see the service truck driving up. Rachel waves and walks over to meet the man climbing down, Lana staring after her.

Tire changed, the four passengers sit silently while Rachel fills out paperwork against the door.

“Where do I…?” She gestures with her pen.

“Where is says ‘signature’.”

“Oh.” She signs, laughing to cover her embarrassment. The man just looks back at her patiently.

“Make sure you get that to your service station as soon as you possibly can. Drive too long on the spare…”

“Right. Okay. Will do.” She nods along, silently praying that nothing else will go wrong on this godforsaken trip. “Thank you.”

“Great. Thank you.”

“Thank you.”

She leans back against her seat and sighs, scanning her passengers faces.

“Okay, no more stops, no more things going wrong, I promise. Let’s just get there.” She starts the car and smiles a little as music from her favorite radio station filled the air. 

She zones out to the music in minutes, bobbing her head along and even mouthing the words to Sister Golden Hair when it comes on.

“All of your music is…old,” Margot comments, shaking Rachel from her peaceful bubble.

“Oh, I’m—I'm sorry. I’ll change the station.” She’s reaching for the knob when Billy stops her.

“No! I love this song.” Rachel’s lips quirk up.

“How do you know this song?”

“How do you know this song?” Lana asks her. “You are not old enough to remember the seventies.” 

“I don’t think I’m as young as you think I am,” Rachel laughs. “Billy?”

“My dad—“

“Exactly!” Margot says. “This is dad music.”

“Yeah,” Rachel grins, “and old lady teacher music.”

“You are not old,” Sam protests.

“No, I am old.”

“You like America?” Billy asks.

“Well—“

“America?” Margot cuts in.

“It’s the band. This band,” Billy tells her.

“America. It’s just called ‘America’.”

‘Yep.”

“And that’s it?”

“That’s it.” Billy smirks at her.

“I don’t know, Margot,” Sam chimes, waving his hands in some sort of dance. “I kind of like what it’s doing to me.” Margot rolls her eyes at him, leaning forward to talk to Rachel.

“Do you mind if I ask how old you are? Sam thinks you’re twenty-six, but I think you’re older.” Lana covers her mouth to stop a laugh at the girl’s tactlessness. “Not ‘cause you look older, you just seem older. My older sister—“

“Twenty-nine.”

“Knew you were too young for the seventies,” Lana quips. “Oh, this is the best part.” She reaches over and turned up the volume, and Margot watches in disbelief as Billy sings along with the adults and Sam jostles her with his dancing.

Will you meet me in the middle,

Will you meet me in the air?

Will you love me just a little,

Just enough to show you care?

Well, I tried to fake it

I don’t mind saying’

I just can’t make it…

Their voices trail off at the end of the chorus and the three grin at each other, spirits lifted.

***

When they finally arrive at the hotel, any sort of welcoming committee that had manned the competition table has long since abandoned it, and Rachel feels a rush of guilt.

“I’m gonna go check us in,” she tells them, striding over to the front desk with Lana following close behind.

“Okay,” she begins when she comes back, handing out card keys and beckoning them to follow her towards the elevator. “The four of us have rooms next to each other’s on the third floor. Sam, Billy, you’re sharing.” They get in and punch the button for their floor, Rachel looking back at Lana.

“I’m on the fifth,” she replies to the silent question. Rachel nods and pushes the button for her floor as well.

“The, uh, welcoming ceremony is at seven, so let’s meet in the lobby at six for dinner. That gives you a couple hours of free time, so do whatever you want, but do not leave the hotel, understood?” She meets each of their eyes for confirmation and nods just as the elevator dings.

“Alright, we’ll see you then.” She waves back to Lana and exits with her students, following them down the hallway. Margot finds her room first and waves before going inside. Billy and Sam come next, and she doesn’t notice how Billy lingers to watch her pass.

Finally alone, Rachel flops down on the bed and kicks off her shoes. It's so tempting to just take a nap, this day far more exhausting than it should be. But she hadn’t taken a shower this morning and can feel it getting to her after spending hours in the car. With a groan, she sits back up and yanks her hair tie out, shaking long blonde strands down her back. Not bothering to be neat, she peels off her vest, shirt, and bra en route to the bathroom, hopping out of her jeans and underwear next.

The warm water feels like heaven, and she lets herself stand under it for far longer than necessary. She has two hours, she justifies to herself. It won’t kill her to relax a little. It’s only when she catches herself drifting to sleep that she gets out, wrapping towels around her hair and body and unpacking the few changes of clothes she’d brought. The itinerary had said there’s a mixer for the students tonight, and she’s suddenly glad she brought her blue skirt after all; those kids dancing were going to make it uncomfortably warm.

She decides to take the time and redo her minimal makeup, choosing lipstick just a shade darker than she’d normally wear during the day and adding eyeliner. It cheers her up, makes her feel more present, even if the reflection of her blue-green eyes in the mirror reminds her of looking into someone else’s. She sighs and checks the time, deciding that ten minutes isn’t too early to head down and wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Lana and Rachel actually get to know each other, and they're a little interested! Also, Rachel swearing because she's mortified that she's swearing is the funniest and most relatable thing ever. I freaking love her.


	3. Friday Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, the flirting. Rachel is the most awkward person alive, and it's GREAT.

Margot comes out of her room just as Rachel passes it.

“Hi, Miss Stevens,” she greets with a smile. “You look nice.”

“Oh, thank you, so do you.” She continues down the hallway, the younger blonde trailing her slightly. “Have you seen the boys?” 

“Uhh, nope. I stayed in my room and caught up on homework. I don’t know what they decided to do.” She smiles to herself at that. Of course Margot would choose homework over exploring the hotel.

“Well, they’ve still got a little time if they’re not down in the lobby already.” She shrugs. The elevator dings open almost immediately after she pushes the button, and a wild-eyed Billy almost barrels into them on his way out.

“Billy!” Margot snaps as he stutters to a stop in front of her.

“Sorry, I’ve just gotta grab my phone from my room. I left it to charge,” he explains, already jogging backwards away from them. “I’ll be down in two minutes!”

“No rush,” Rachel calls back. He gives them a thumbs up and turns to really jog, and the two blondes burst out in giggles when they look back at each other.

Sam is waiting in a chair nearby when they enter the lobby, and Margot immediately strolls over to sit with him while Rachel scans for their accompanying reporter.

“Oh, Miss Stevens.” Sam waves at her. “Miss Winters said she’d be at the bar until we got there.”

“Okay, thank you. I’ll go find her. You two head over when Billy comes down, okay?” After getting their affirmation, she heads towards the bar, finding Lana seated at the end in a flattering dark green wrap dress. Lana spots her as she approaches and gestures to the open seat next to her.

“Rachel,” she greets, a wide smile lighting her face as she appraises the younger woman. “You look very lovely with your hair down.”

“Oh, thank you,” she replies, cheeks flushing as she tucks the loose strands behind her ear. "I like your dress.” She nods to the glass of dark red liquid Lana's swirling. “What’re you having?”

“Pinot noir.” She tilts the glass towards her in in offering, and Rachel takes a tentative sip, closing her eyes in appreciation as the wine slides down her throat.

“Mm, that’s rich,” she comments, handing the glass back and gesturing to the bartender. If there are rules against drinking while on a field trip, Rachel can’t remember them and doesn’t want to. Her own glass in hand, the two of them join the students just as they get to the adjoining restaurant.

“So, are all three of you in Miss Stevens’ class?” Lana asks the students, sitting down between Margot and Sam.

“Um, Billy and I are,” Margot answers for them, “but Sam is a sophomore.”

“I teach juniors and seniors,” Rachel explains, gesturing at the two older students. “Another teacher has the younger grades.” Lana nods, typing the note into her phone.

“How did you all get involved with the drama competition?” The questions and light conversation continue through dinner, turning to the various plays each of them have seen and, eventually, to the ones Rachel performed in.

“Another glass?” The waiter asks Rachel, smiling bright.

“Oh. Um…sure. Thank you,” she decides.

“Another vino for the lady, coming right up,” he says, and she can feel his eyes on her as she keeps her eyes glued to the table. With much less attention, the man gestures to Lana’s glass, and the brunette shakes her head.

“So, what was your favorite part?” Sam asks, returning to their conversation.

“Oh, gosh. Umm…” Rachel hums, contemplating her answer. “We did The Glass Menagerie. I loved that play.” She smiles.

“And who were you?”

“I was Tom,” she reveals, biting her cheek. “I ended up playing boys a lot.”

“Why?” Margot asks quizzically. 

“I don’t know. I…I, uh, I was tall. I don’t really have hips,” she admits with a shrug.

“Here you go,” the waiter says, returning with her wine.

“Thank you.”

“Pinot noir,” he comments, still hovering over the blonde, “such a good choice.” Rachel swallows a gulp of the burning liquid, willing it to work faster as she nods.

“Totally.” She chuckles, shooting him a quick glance, “it is." Lana smiles into her water, making Rachel glare at her teasingly.

“So,” Margot asks Sam, “are we excited to see who’s gonna be there tonight? Pretty interesting—“

“Oh,” Rachel interjects, oblivious to the side conversation. “Man. There was this—there was this one time…” She runs her tongue over her lip, shaking her head.

“What?” Billy asks, noticing the change in her tone.

“Gosh, I haven’t thought about this in years. We were doing, uh, Taming of the Shrew. And I played Petruchio. And in the last scene, on the last night—“

“Petruchio is the main character,” Margot jumps in at Sam’s vacant expression. 

“Right,” Rachel praises, laying a hand on Margot’s arm. “Sorry. But—Petruchio is this guy who’s in love with this girl, Kate. And in the last scene, the girl playing Kate, this girl…Gillian. She…kisses me.” Her eyes are wide, hands animate as she describes her surprise. “We’d been doing it with this—this stupid hug. Because it was that kind of school. So I go in for the stupid hug, and she just…turns her head and…and kisses me. Really kisses me. And I remember thinking why didn’t we do this in the first place? These two people are in love! And then it hits me that my teachers, my mother, my grandmother—“ She lays a hand over her heart, thinking about the old woman’s reaction afterwards. “—and the boy I liked, Thomas…O’Toole, are all out there watching me make out with Gillian Cooke.” Sam laughs in delight.

“My God, that’s crazy!”

“What happened?” Margot asks.

“We had to go to the principal’s office.”

“But didn’t you tell them it was her fault?” Rachel shakes her head.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “It—it didn’t—it didn't feel like it was her fault.”

“I totally get it,” Sam told her.

“And if we—one of us had actually been a boy, we wouldn’t have got into…trouble at all,” she scoffs, taking another sip of wine.

“They wouldn’t have cared,” Sam picks up. “They would have clapped and thought you were dating.”

“It’s ridiculous how much people care about things like that, even still today,” Lana adds, “as if there wasn’t a time when every part in a play wasn’t performed by males—including the romances.”

“I never did another play.”

“Still good on that wine?” The waiter reappears at her shoulder.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” she laughs, a little too loudly, and immediately covers her mouth with her hand. Maybe the wine was working. “Yeah. No, I’m good. Thank you. No more for—“

“Oh,” Margot calls to the waiter as he walks away, gesturing for the check, “can you…?”

“Margot,” Rachel warns against her pushiness.

“Well, we should get going. We’re gonna be late,” the girl explains. “ Again.” 

***

The event room is dark and packed full with all the teenage competitors and their chaperones, but they are lucky enough to find five seats together near the back. Rachel lets Margot, Sam, and Billy file in ahead of her, and ends up next to Lana just before the presentation starts.

“Most of you will be eliminated,” a man tells them from the podium. “And it will be difficult. So much of acting is about the struggle. But some of you, the truly talented few—“ Rachel leans out, offering encouraging smiles to her three students. “—smaller group with experience…the exhilaration…of the win. On Sunday afternoon, three winners will be chosen by our esteemed panel of judges. Give them a round of applause.”

“He’s a big guy, the director,” Billy whispers to her. “He also directs this teen soap.” 

“Every year, we begin with a group affirmation.”

“Thank you,” Rachel whispers back.

"A moment for all of us to come together, before we judges rip you apart.” The audience chuckles, most of the kids uneasily. “Quick. Close your eyes. Feel…everyone breathing with you. Breathing as one. Inhale. One, two, three four. And out.” Rachel tries, she really does, but she gives up on the exhale count and opens her eyes. Looking around, she startles slightly to see that Lana’s almost-black eyes are already open and on her. The older woman gives her a wink, and Rachel grins back, turning the other way to observe her students, sending silent wishes for each of them to succeed. The count ends, but Billy’s eyes stay closed, and she watches him silently until Margot catches her gaze.

***

“Lana, are you coming?” Rachel asks hopefully as the kids make their way down the hall to where music is already blaring. The reporter tosses her head in the direction of the elevators, making Rachel frown.

“I’m gonna drop my bag back at my room and copy down some more notes, but I’ll come back in a while.” Rachel nods silently and watches her walk away, trying not to be too disappointed at the thought of having no one to hang out with.

Her kids have already scattered by the time she gets through the door, and, thankfully, she doesn’t even see any groups of hovering adults to attempt conversation with. Heading towards the drink table, she spies Margot and Sam trading glances with a group of three boys and chuckles, remembering doing the same thing when she was in high school. She can’t spot Billy, though. 

Drink in hand, she wanders the periphery, bobbing to the beat and counting down the minutes until Lana gets back so she has someone to talk to. This music isn’t anything she’s heard on her oldies station, but it has a good beat, and she finds herself dancing along and forgetting about all the teenagers probably laughing at her.

“I don’t want to interrupt,” a voice says from her shoulder, making her turn.

“Sorry,” she laughs, shaking her head at the tall man next to her. “What?” He gives her a charming smile.

“I’m Walter.”

“I’m Rachel,” she responds, offering a hand that he takes before half-turning away and sighing.

“What do you teach?” he asks, making her turn back with raised eyebrows.

“Hmm?”

“What is it that you teach?” He repeats louder. She shakes her head and bites her lip with a smile.

“I’m an, uh…I’m an English—I teach—I’m an English—I teach English,” she gets out finally, thankful that he can’t see her scarlet cheeks in the low light as she takes a sip of punch.

“You’re really bad at small talk.” She can’t help but giggle, knowing she is making a complete fool of herself. “So, so bad.”

“I’m so used to talking at people that I just—I forget how to, you know…” She gestures between them. “With grown ups…Just so tired at the end of the day.” She shrugs and turns away again, swaying to the music.

“I think I would forget, too, if it weren’t for my wife,” Walter responds, and the small smile slips from her face as she mimes an explosion.

“Now you’re not using words.”

“Wife…you dropped…Wife. You said ‘wife'. You dropped the ‘wife' bomb.” He laughs lightly.

“Did you think that you were gonna meet a nice, single guy at this thing?”

“Well…I don’t really see anybody else that I wanna talk to, so.” She shrugs and smiles at him, because he’s still the only one else there that might offer some decent conversation, and they wander out to the patio for more air and less noise.

“I really did. I had…Ugh! The biggest crush on my high school English teacher.”

“No.”

“So hot.”

“No, there’s just—there’s no way that every high school English teacher was hot. Maybe—maybe one of those teachers actually was really hot,” she allows, holding up a finger. “The rest—the rest were just…okay. Or…or not even at all.”

“I don’t think it has to do all that much with them being hot,” Lana chimes in, smirking when Rachel turns to smile and Walter quickly leans away from the young blonde.

“Lana!” Rachel greets her happily, moving so there’s just enough room for her to sit on the bench, their shoulders brushing together. “I didn’t think you were ever gonna show up.”

“I promised I would, didn’t I?” She teases, resting a hand on the younger woman’s thigh and leveling an inquisitive gaze at the slightly flustered man. “Who’s your friend?” Rachel smiles slightly, pleasant warmth spreading up her neck at the brunette’s touch, and turns to face the man beside her again.

“This is Walter, he’s another chaperone. Walter, Lana Winters.” She gestures between them with her cup. “She’s writing an article on the competition for her paper.” They exchange pleasantries, Lana’s eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Now, about those English teachers…"

“I get it. I get it,” Walter says. “Think about it. You have this…woman, this real woman, and she’s telling you what to do. Right? And she’s inspiring you and exciting you. And think about these guys. All they have on their weekends are these little baby girls to talk to. But you’re a woman. You’re a goddamn woman. And you’re standing out there, in front of all their pimples, and all their boners, and you’re talking about…sex. I mean, you’re talking in similes or metaphors, but really…really…it’s just sex.” Lana nods along while Rachel just looks at the two of them incredulously.

“Mm, he’s right,” Lana says. “It’s not just for guys though. I had a crush on my English teacher, and I didn’t have pimples or a boner.” Rachel chokes her punch on a laugh. “And she was definitely hot.”

“You also told me your ex taught third grade. I think you just have a thing for teachers.” Rachel smirks, biting her lip. 

“You might have a point there,” the brunette admits with a sly wink that makes Rachel’s smile grow even as her mind goes blank. She can’t seem to look away from Lana’s heated gaze.

“Oh-kay, I think I’m gonna go.” He doesn’t look at either of them on his way inside, even though both women’s eyes follow him. Lana bursts out laughing the minute he’s through the doorway, and Rachel just stares at her, still processing the turn of events.

“I think you scared him.”

“Good.” The brunette sobers. “He wanted to fuck you.” Rachel rolls her eyes.

“Yeah,” she laughs dryly, "I picked up on that, and I could have handled it fine by myself, if that’s what all the—the flirting was about.”

“And what if that’s not what the flirting was about?” Lana teases, leaning in until their noses are almost brushing. Rachel gulps, eyes flicking down to Lana's cherry-red lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, so things are starting to pick up a little as I'm able to work in more unique interactions! Rating will go up for the next chapter, because yes there's gonna be smut.
> 
> I really hope I'm keeping everyone in character. Feedback is very much appreciated--I love that people are actually reading this story since Miss Stevens isn't really well-known!
> 
> Also, does anyone know how to get italics to copy over when I paste my text in the box? It never does for some reason.


	4. Friday Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much just smut but there's some comedy at the end.

Rachel drags their mouths together the moment they’re in Lana’s room, hands coming up to cup the other woman’s jaw even as she’s pushed none too gently against the door. The impact makes her gasp, Lana greedily taking the opportunity to slide her tongue past the blonde’s lips and make them both groan. She presses flush against the younger woman, one palm braced against the door to support her weight while the other roams up and down Rachel’s side. Rachel’s hands slide into her chestnut hair, gentle scratches making her shiver as she takes the hint and plants kisses down her neck. Rachel bites back a moan as lips lock over her pulse point and grips Lana’s waist for support, knowing she would fall were she not so tightly pinned between the door and the other woman’s body. The sensations makes her head spin and heat settle low in her stomach. 

 

“Lana,” she pants. The sound of her name makes the older woman trail back up to Rachel’s mouth, drawing her into a deep kiss before pulling back. Their noses bump against each other, Lana’s heels giving her the slightest advantage as she meets Rachel’s wide blue eyes.

 

“You sure?” she asks through heavy breaths. Rachel nods and attempts to draw her back in, but Lana holds back. “Gotta hear you say it, babe.” The teacher winds her arms around her partner’s neck and presses up into the brunette as much as she can on her still-weak knees.

 

“I want you to fuck me, Lana,” she whispers, their lips brushing together with every word. Lana captures her lips with a groan, pushing both hands into the small of Rachel’s back and a thigh between her legs. Rachel squeaks at the sudden contact, but it’s gone as quickly as it came, and she’s being spun around, nimble fingers working at the buttons of her blouse even as they push her backwards towards the bed. She stumbles as the backs of her thighs hit the edge, but Lana’s grip is quickly around her waist, reassuringly firm. Rachel’s ocean-blue eyes don’t waiver from Lana’s nearly black ones as she shrugs off her shirt and reaches to undo the ties of the other woman’s dress. It falls open to expose the lacy black lingerie Lana wears underneath, and Rachel’s fingers dance hesitantly along its edges as the reporter pushes her down to sit on the mattress. Lana’s kiss leaves her aching, reaching out when she steps back with a teasing smile to shed her dress and shoes. Rachel sucks on her bottom lip, drinking in the other woman’s body half out of admiration and half out of insecurity at her own modest figure.

 

Lana must read the anxiety on her face, because she climbs up to straddle the blonde, arms around her shoulders and face buried in her neck as she speaks between planting kisses. “God, Rachel, I’ve been waiting to do this all night.” Rachel shivers in her arms, her own wrapping once more around Lana’s waist. “I liked you the minute we met, but when I saw you at dinner…” her teeth drag lightly over Rachel’s ear, eliciting a gasp. “You are gorgeous.” Rachel doesn’t respond, but the labored breath and sloppy kisses against the swell of her breast tell Lana everything she needs to know. “And then I heard that fucker flirting with you. I strongly considered pulling you into my lap right then and there. Thought it might freak out the kids, though.” Rachel giggles, leaning her forehead on the brunette’s shoulder.

 

“He never had a chance next to you,” Rachel murmurs, grinds their hips together teasingly, breath hitching when Lana nips her collarbone in retaliation. “Careful,” she rasps, trailing along Lana’s jaw until their lips meet. “Don’t leave any marks where my kids could see.” Lana nods, fingers combing through thick blonde hair.

 

“I’ll keep it below the shoulders, okay?” Rachel hums in response, fiddling with the clasp of Lana’s bra and smiling when she gets it open. Lana pulls the straps from her arms and throws the piece somewhere behind them. Bottom lip between her teeth again—a favored gesture, Lana’s noticing—the teacher lets her hands skate up Lana’s stomach and between her breasts, smoothing over her shoulders and tracing the outline of her curves, thumbs brushing so close to her sensitive peaks that Lana pushes into the touch instinctively. “Tease.” 

 

Rachel only smirks in answer to the brunette’s light glare, palms flattening over the mounds and kneading, making Lana’s eyes flutter shut. She brushes her thumbs over the rapidly hardening points and pinches, replacing one hand with her mouth and hissing in pleasure when the older woman responds by tangling her fingers in Rachel’s hair and tugging. Lana repeats the action with more force, and Rachel scrapes teeth over her nipple before letting herself be pulled up into the brunette’s bruising kiss.

 

“Come here,” Lana gasps, crawling off her partner to pull back the bedcovers and slip under them. Rachel follows quickly, settling between her legs and letting the other woman reach for the buttons of her skirt. They finally manage to slide it down enough for Rachel to kick free, Lana already reaching for the clasp of her bra. She barely manages to suppress a moan as Lana slides a toned leg between hers in the same moment she attaches her lips to the blonde’s flushed chest. Lana’s mouth is just higher than she wants, but the thought disappears as the reporter sucks hard. Rachel’s cry makes Lana grin against the rapidly bruising skin, and she grasps the young teacher’s hips and grinds her core down.

 

“God,” Rachel pants, head falling forward into the crook of Lana’s shoulder and latching against the skin there as her hands dig crescents into the reporter’s shoulder blades. Lana’s body tenses under hers, and the next thing she knows, she’s on her back, curtains of amber-tinted hair falling around both their faces.

 

“Nope, just me,” Lana teases back breathlessly, heart racing at the feel of Rachel’s thigh against her wetness. Cutting off the younger woman’s giggles, Lana kisses her way down her jaw and neck and directs attention to her rosy peaks. Looking up to make sure the teacher is watching her, she finally draws a hard nipple between her teeth, gently biting and sucking before soothing with her tongue and moving to the other. Rachel practically whines at the contact, sending a rush of heat to Lana’s core.

 

Rising back up and nipping at the blonde’s lips, she’s finally close enough for Rachel’s hands to grip her thighs, thumbs brushing achingly along her hip bone as she pulls the reporter down hard. Lana moans deep in her throat, shifting so that her knee brushes Rachel’s center every time she rocks forward. Rachel caresses her lover’s skin, fingers running over her hips and up the inside of her thighs. Just as she anticipates, it doesn’t take long for the brunette to get frustrated, grabbing Rachel’s wrist and pushing her palm against her core. Both pairs of eyes close as Rachel’s fingers find her wetness, rubbing firmly through her underwear before slipping inside and circling her clit. Lana bucks at the contact, her own fingers surely leaving marks where they dig into her companion’s sides. The blonde sits up, finding Lana’s mouth in a hard kiss, tongues fighting for dominance as her fingers mimic the action, two sliding deep inside the older woman without warning. Lana clutches her close, setting her own pace against the slender digits. 

 

Rachel kisses down her throat and across her chest, finding the spots that make her moan. It isn’t long before the brunette’s breathing becomes ragged, hips moving erratically against her fingers. Rachel adds a third finger, thumb teasing over her clit, the increased stimulation making Lana tighten her grip with bruising strength. The reporter takes Rachel off guard, pushing her roughly back onto the pillows, plunging two fingers deep into her core without warning and setting a rapid pace. The unexpected intrusion makes the blonde cry out, curling her fingers inside Lana reflexively. The last movement makes Lana’s walls tighten, hard and sudden, moaning as she comes. Rachel continues to pump her fingers gently, her other hand coming up to steady the older woman’s trembling hips.

 

Lana lets out a long breathe as she comes down from her high, pulling Rachel’s hand out of her soaked underwear and up to her mouth, the blonde watching with wide eyes as she licks her own juices away. Lana grins; her fingers had reduced to an achingly slow pace inside her companion, and the younger woman is practically squirming under her. Leaning down, she plants light kisses along Rachel’s jaw before finally claiming her lips and letting their tongues tangle eagerly. Rachel whimpers into her mouth, hooking one leg around Lana’s lower back in an effort to drive her fingers deeper, but the brunette smirks and pulls back until she’s just teasing her entrance.

 

“Shit, Lana, please,” she begs, eyes fluttering closed as Lana nibbles at her ear.

 

“Trust me, baby,” the reporter whispers back, lips trailing down her neck and across her chest. She leaves several blooming red marks on her ribcage and moves lower until Rachel’s hands slip off her shoulders. She tangles them in the sheets instead, watching with hooded eyes as Lana bites gently at the sensitive skin of her thighs. Nails scrape lightly at her hipbones as Lana pulls the underwear away, pulling back to tug it off completely. She slides her hands back up Rachel’s long, toned legs and settles back between them. Rachel's head falls back against the pillows with a gasp as Lana’s mouth finds her sensitive bundle of nerves and sucks. She keens low in her throat when the older woman’s fingers slip back into her folds and can’t keep her hips from bucking into the contact. Lana drives her fingers as deep as they can go, pulling out and plunging back in with increasing speed. It only takes a few minutes before Rachel feels the hot pressure in her abdomen building.

 

“Shit. I’m close, Lana, I’m—fuck, I—ah!” Rachel’s release comes with a cry, snapping through her body and making her back arch almost painfully. Lana’s ministrations help her ride through it, only stopping once the tension leaves her limbs. Pressing sweet kisses to her hip, sternum, and cheek, Lana drapes herself over the younger woman, smiling wide.

 

“You really do swear a lot.”

 

“Shut up,” Rachel mumbles, still dazed from the intensity of her orgasm. Eyes half-closed, she finds Lana’s mouth with her own and tastes both of them on her tongue. She’s not sure how long they stay like that, kissing lazily, but eventually Lana slips off of her and heads for the bathroom. Rachel’s eyes trace her naked figure as she walks, shivering equally from the sight and the sudden lack of warmth. Her reluctant limbs find the sheet that’s pooled around her legs and pull it up, but the rest fell of the bed at some point.

 

Lana returns wearing a clean pair of lacy white underwear and has an unlit cigarette between her grinning teeth. Rachel returns her smile, and suddenly uncontrollable giddiness bubbles up in her chest. Lana sits on the other side of the bed, leaning against the headboard and watches with an amused smile as the dam finally breaks.

 

“What?” She chuckles. Rachel tosses on the bed with hysterical laughter, hair falling wildly over her face until Lana brushes it away.

 

“What?” Rachel just shakes her head, no breath behind the words she tries to form. 

 

“I can’t—“ Putting down her still-unlit cigarette, Lana pushes her down onto her back and straddles her, pinning the younger woman’s wrists so she can’t hide her red face and tear-brightened eyes. The brunette holds her there, still smiling fondly, their noses brushing together while Rachel stutters through a few breaths. Her chest is heaving and the sheet has slipped down to her waist, but she can’t bring herself to care while those chocolate eyes hold hers.

 

“I don’t usually do things like this,” she answers breathlessly. Lana hums, pecking her cheeks until the younger woman smiles.

 

“Things like…having sex with a woman? Or with someone you just met? Or while on a school trip?” She teases, letting go of Rachel’s wrists so the blonde can wrap arms around her waist and sit them up. Lana combs her fingers through the tangled golden tresses as her companion presses kisses along her collarbone.

 

“Hmm, all of the above,” she giggles, smiling against the older woman’s lips when Lana pulls her into a kiss. She breaks away when it becomes heated, eyes still half closed and bottom lip securely between her teeth.

 

“I should go,” she whispers. Lana rests their foreheads together.

 

“I wouldn’t mind if you stayed.” The brunette scratches nails down her back, making her groan, but still she shakes her head.

 

“My kids need to know where I am, in case they need anything.” Lana smiles at that, kissing her nose.

 

“You’re a good teacher. Okay, come on.” She climbs off the younger woman and the bed, reaching back to tug Rachel up and into her arms for a stolen kiss. Without her heels, Lana has to bridge the few inches between their heights. They redress quickly in spite of a few more interludes, Lana in pajamas and Rachel in her outfit, minus the shoes which she carries. 

 

“Lana,” Rachel warns as the woman presses her lightly against the door for one last deep kiss. “I really have to go.”

 

“Fine,” she pouts, hand on the doorknob but Rachel still pinned against it. “Meet me for breakfast tomorrow morning?” The blonde sighs, attempt at a stern look thwarted by the smile tugging her lips.

 

“Eight?”

 

“Deal.” Finally satisfied, she releases her captive, smiling as she notices the younger woman biting her bottom lip again. “Sweet dreams, Miss Stevens.” A flush creeping up her cheeks, Rachel slides through the door, blue eyes meeting her dark ones for the last time.

 

“Goodnight, Miss Winters.” The door closes, and Rachel has to restrain herself from skipping down the hall. Her heart is certainly beating as fast as if she was skipping, despite the content exhaustion in her limbs. Breakfast. Lana wants to have breakfast with her. She hadn’t realized that she had expectations about what would happen after hooking up with the attractive reporter, but whatever they were, this feels like…more, somehow. She likes Lana. Witty, inquisitive, confident Lana Winters.

 

These are the thoughts that carry her down to the third floor and have her smiling gently at the teenage couple kissing in the hall, but the sight of Billy sitting outside his room brings her back down to Earth. He jumps up when he sees her, and she spares a thought that the couple would probably be very uncomfortable if they realized he was here.

 

“Uh…Is everything okay?” She whispers, trying not to attract the couple’s attention, trying not to attract _Billy’s_ attention as she tries to close the top button on her blouse, praying to God that Lana had kept her word about leaving marks and that Billy won’t notice her cheeks go red as she remembers where Lana definitely _had_ left marks.

 

“Yeah.” He shrugs, as if nothing is out of the ordinary or just…strange about him sitting in the hallway while people make out ten feet away.

 

“What are you—What are you—“

 

“I forgot my key inside,” he explains.

 

“Oh. Doesn’t Sam have one?”

 

“He’s still downstairs.”

 

“Oh.” She can barely formulate a response, so focused on getting past him and into her room before he can notice the damn _button_ she still can’t get through its hole.

 

“Kind of met someone,” he chuckles, shifting awkwardly. Rachel looks to her left and sees that the couple has parted and finally, _finally_ , the button slips into place, and she can think.

 

“You know, you can get one from the front desk.” Yes, she can think about being a teacher and finding a solution to her student’s problem…and about how her blouse is untucked. Shit.

 

“Oh, my God. Duh!” He slaps his forehead in mock humiliation and she smiles tightly, half expecting something else to come out of one of their mouths. But nothing does, so after a decidedly awkward moment of silence, she turns to go.

 

“Okay, goodnight,” she bids, forcing herself to walk calmly although she can’t stop her hand from reaching for the hem of her shirt.

 

“Okay, goodnight.” She offers him another uncomfortable smile at the door before practically diving inside. Dropping her shoes, Rachel leans against the door and puts her head in her hands, groaning because she’s a teacher. A _teacher_ on a trip with her _students_ , one of whom just caught her on her walk of shame, even if he doesn’t know it.

 

She needs a drink—several drinks.

 

***

 

“Uhhh, actually, that’s my roommate. Sorry, thank you—Hey, Sam, wait up!” Billy sees Sam heading for the elevator right as he’s in the middle of getting a new room key and dashes away, leaving a slightly bewildered desk manager in his wake.

 

“Billy, hey! I thought you went upstairs like, an hour ago.” Billy smiles sheepishly.

 

“I, yeah, uh, I left my key inside and didn’t want to bug you, so I just kind of sat in the hall until Miss Stevens found me and reminded me I could get a replacement from the desk.” Sam’s smile falls away as he talks.

 

“Why didn’t you just come ask for mine?”

 

“Well, it looked like you were having a good time with that Josh guy. I didn’t want to interrupt,” he explains as they step onto the elevator.

 

“That was sweet of you, Billy, but I feel bad you had to wait.”

 

“It’s fine.” He shrugs. “So, how did it go?” Sam lights up at the question, gushing about Josh, who he’d danced with and talked to practically all night, his words only interrupted by the persistent ping of his phone.

 

“Is that him?” Billy asks, grinning at his friend’s fairy-tale description of the night, but Sam rolls his eyes. He pulls out the offending electronic just as they reach their floor

 

“No, it’s Margot. She went upstairs a little before you and keeps asking for updates,” he sighs. “ _And_ she’s trying to convince me that Miss Stevens is a lesbian.” A strange sound catches in Billy’s throat, somewhere between a laugh and a cough.

 

“What? Why would she think _that_?” 

 

“Oh, come _on_ , Billy. That story she told? About the girl kissing her in the play? Margot thinks that since she didn’t turn the other girl in, she must have liked it. Gotta admit, it sounded like it was a good memory.” It’s Billy’s turn to roll his eyes, waiting patiently while Sam unlocks the door to their room. 

 

“That’s not what she meant—tell Margot that’s not what she meant.” Sam sighs in exasperation, but texts a reply nonetheless, and it’s only a minute before the response comes through.

 

“Margot asks: then what do _you_ think she meant?” Billy’s brow knits together, thinking how to word his answer.

 

“Well, you both said it yourself during dinner. If it had been a guy and a girl, it wouldn’t have mattered. Miss Stevens didn’t think they did anything wrong—they were acting, and their characters were supposed to kiss, so they followed the script.” Sam nods along, thumbs rapidly copying his speech. Billy flops down onto his bed. “What do you think?”

 

“Huh?” Sam asks, pressing send and grabbing his duffle to look for pajamas.

 

“What do you think of Miss Stevens? Don’t you have Spidey-sense for that kind of thing?” Sam snickers, pulling out a toothbrush and putting it on the bed next to his clothes.

 

“It’s hardly foolproof. I really don’t get any read off of her. And as awesome as it would be to have an openly gay teacher, I also really don’t care.” His phone pings, and he reaches for it, a bottle of face wash in his other hand. “Margot says you’re not wrong, but Miss Stevens is still gay.”

 

“Argh,” Billy groans. 

 

“I’m telling her goodnight. You two can debate as much as you want tomorrow, in person, without my phone.”

 

“Whatever.” Billy shrugs, kicking off his shoes and pulling a book from his backpack.

 

“That Lana Winters, though,” Sam calls over his shoulder, heading for the bathroom, “ _totally_ gay.”

 

“Oh, definitely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I hate myself for having to cut the whole montage of Rachel in her hotel room because it was GREAT, but this chapter was getting way too long and I really wanted to write the kids discussing her sexuality, so I hope it's funny enough for everyone to forgive me!
> 
> Things I learned writing this chapter: there are only so many ways you can differentiate two people who have the same pronouns before it gets ridiculous; it is very difficult to avoid repetition when writing smut; writing Sam being sassy af is a close second-favorite to writing Rachel's inner ramblings 
> 
> Shout out to TheFandomLesbian for solving my italicizing issues!


	5. Saturday Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel's breakfast date doesn't go as planned, and Billy accompanies her to the mechanic.

“Morning, Miss Stevens.” Margot opens her door that morning just as Rachel passes by, and Rachel has to wonder if the girl wasn’t lying in wait, because the same thing had happened the previous evening. Nonetheless, she offers an awkward smile.

 

“Oh, good morning, Margot.”

“Are you going down for breakfast?” She’s already closing the door behind her.

“I—“

“Great! I don’t think Billy and Sam are even awake yet.” Margot rolls her eyes and starts walking down the hall, leaving Rachel to stare at her door and process the sudden change in plans. So much for her breakfast (date?) with Lana, she muses. “Miss Stevens?”

“Right,” she sighs under her breathe, trotting after her student. “So…did you, uh, have fun at the dance last night?” Margot shrugs as they step into the elevator.

“Yeah. I didn’t stay too long, though. Wanted to be ready to go for today,” she chuckles, biting her cheek. “Did you do anything fun? _Besides_ watch a bunch of teenagers try to dance?” Despite the light tone of her question, Rachel feels heat trying to crawl its way up her neck and looks away hurriedly, letting her hair hide the growing flush.

“Uh, nope. Just, uh, worked on lesson plans.” She nods, giving the girl a tight smile.

“Oh, that’s cool. We’re reading Lord of the Flies next, right? That’s such a great book. There’s so much symbolism,” Margot continues on, oblivious to her teacher’s momentary panic as they reach the ground floor. Following the younger blonde towards the dining room, Rachel fingers the top button of her shirt, making sure it’s secure. 

Rachel’s attention wanes as they collect food from the buffet and Margot keeps talking. Her thoughts had kept her sleepless until the early hours of the morning, and now she’s paying the price. And for what? The early breakfast was _supposed_ to have prevented her students from interrupting. Shaking the fog from her head, she forces herself to stop looking for the absent reporter and focus on the younger blonde’s words. Rachel has almost forgotten her missing date when the woman appears.

“Good morning, ladies,” Lana greets, “Mind if I join you?” She sports a bright smile, but coffee-colored eyes linger on Rachel, making her fidget. Margot, thank God, seems oblivious to the awkwardness and smiles happily as Lana sets down her bag beside the student and walks off to get food. 

“I like Miss Winters,” Margot says once the woman in question is out of earshot. “She seems to really care about what we’re doing here. Promoting the arts.” Rachel nods, picking at the last of her eggs.

“She does. I’m glad Principal Alvarez was able to have her come along.”

“It’ll be really good press for the school. I mean, can you imagine if one of us actually wins?” Rachel’s lips turn up at her student’s starry-eyed look, but Lana returns before she can reply.

“What are you two talking about?” She asks, looking between the two blondes with that perpetually inquisitive gaze.

“Just the competition. Who we think could win,” Rachel replies, glancing back at Margot. “I think all three of you have a good chance. I’ve seen how dedicated you are.” Margot smiles shyly at the praise, but her gaze drops to the bottom of the mug she holds.

“So, Miss Winters,” the youngest girl starts, “did you end up coming to the dance last night?” And though she looks at Margot, Rachel can feel the smirk in her reply.

“Only for half an hour or so. I went to bed early.” At least this time Rachel manages to swallow her water before coughing. The looks she gets, Margot’s concerned and Lana’s faintly amused, definitely don’t help.

“Are you okay, Miss Stevens?” Margot asks. Rachel waves her off, sucking in a deep breath after a moment.

“Just, uh, swallowed wrong, I guess.” Margot accepts the response easily enough, standing with mug in hand.

“I’m gonna get some more coffee.” Once she’s out of earshot, Lana can barely contain her laugh.

“You like embarrassing me, don’t you?” Rachel mumbles, glaring at the other woman.

“To be fair, it’s really not that hard to do.” The brunette chuckles. “I needed to cheer myself up, since you found other company before I could make it down.”  Rachel’s eyes widen, frown softening as she leans forward.

“I’m sorry.” She looks around, making sure Margot is still in line a safe distance away before continuing. “Margot caught me coming downstairs.” Lana’s posture relaxes a fraction, smile turning playful. “I couldn’t exactly say she had to wait for breakfast so I could—what—Lana, what are you doing?” She gapes, feeling Lana’s heel tease the cuff of her jeans. Lana just quirks an eyebrow at her.

“Trying to get you to lighten up, maybe smile a little.” Rachel huffs at the insinuation, crossing her arms. “You have a beautiful smile,” Lana encourages, foot tickling higher on her calf. Rachel smothers the twist of her lips in her shoulder, but another glance at the reporter’s earnest face breaks her facade completely. Biting her lip, she shakes her head at Lana’s triumphant grin.

“You—“

“Look who I found!” Margot chimes, returning to the table with a half-awake Sam in tow. Rachel feels the older woman’s wandering foot retreat, and they both offer polite greetings as the boy slumps over his coffee. 

“Still no Billy?” Rachel asks. Sam shrugs. 

“He said he wanted to sleep more and would come down later.”

“You sound like you could use another hour or so yourself,” Lana comments dryly.

“Margot wouldn’t let me,” Sam mutters darkly, scowling at the preppy blonde. Rachel smiles sympathetically, her own exhaustion just barely concealed.

“Well, while you two are here,” Lana starts, digging in her purse for her phone, “I’d love to ask you some more questions for the article.” Checking her watch, Rachel rises from the table.

“I think I'll leave you to it. I’ve got work of my own to finish.” It’s not a lie—her lesson plan isn’t finished, and there are tests she should start grading—but she doesn’t quite manage to stifle a yawn as she exits the dining room, looking forward to a nap.

***   

Two hours later, Rachel leaves her number with the front desk before heading to the parking lot. She doesn’t know if her kids are in their rooms, but hopefully the hotel will be aware of anything really serious if they don’t see the notes.

“Hey, Miss Stevens!” Billy’s voice makes her turn as she fumbles for her car keys, bewildered by his sudden appearance.

“I’m just going to get a, a tire. Did you get my note? I left notes under your doors."

“Can I come?” He asks, eyes wide with expectation and, she thinks, maybe a little bit of desperation.

“Um…Where are Margot and Sam?”

“Rehearsal.”

“Don’t you need to be in there?” 

“It’s afternoon. They, uh, wanted more time. Nervous, I guess.” He shrugs.

“You’re not nervous?” She asks with a slight smile.

“I mean, I get nervous sometimes.”

“When?” She laughs lightly. "Standing on stage in front of—“

“I’ll let you know.” Billy smirks.

“Okay?” She smiles politely and looks away, brows knit as she shifts under his gaze.

“So, can I come?” He asks again, bouncing impatiently on the balls of his feet. The _why?_ is on the tip of her tongue when she looks back up at him, but it catches there, the principal’s words coming to the forefront of her mind. She drops her shoulders in defeat and attempts a smile.

“Fine, come on."

“You don’t even listen to other stations,” he says once they’re on the road. Rachel shakes her head, brushing her hair off her face for what seems like the fifth time in the two minutes since they got in the car.

“I love this one.”

“Why?”

“I listened to it growing up,” she offers, fingers drumming against the steering wheel.

“You grew up here?”

“In California? Yeah.”

“Are your mom and dad still here?” She manages to not to flinch at the question, but can’t keep the edge out of her voice.

“What is this, Twenty Questions?” 

“Sorry.” They stop at a light and she glances at Billie, biting her lip. Maybe she should apologize, even though she can’t— _won’t_ —explain the sting of his words. But he doesn’t seem too put-off, so she stays silent and wills the light to change.

“Margot’s convinced you’re a lesbian,” he says. She does a double-take, blinking as she processes the completely serious look on his face.

“Excuse me?” What the fuck?

“Sorry. That wasn’t appropriate.” He grimaces, eyes wandering. Rachel looks at him incredulously for a long moment before focusing back on the light, but he turns back before she can utter a mental curse at it, and she meets his eyes against her better judgement.

 "But you’re…you’re not…right?” She feels like a bobblehead, looking between Billy and the longest red light in history, waiting for the right response to magically appear in the space between them.

“That is also inappropriate,” she says finally, a low warning in her tone. He holds his hands up in defeat with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry.” Speechless, Rachel sets the radio to blaring and glares at the damn traffic light.

***

“It’s gonna be a while. I’ve got a couple jobs in front of you,” the mechanic explains, wiping grease off his hands with a cloth.

“How long?”

“About an hour.” Rachel looks at her watch and shrugs.

“Okay, that’s fine. That’s fine, right?” She asks Billy. 

“I’m hungry,” he says, and Rachel can’t help the exasperation in her reply.

“You’re the one who wanted to come.” The mechanic looks between them.

“There’s a diner about a mile away. You guys can cut through around back.” She knows he’s trying to help, that it’s not his fault Billy keeps pushing her buttons. She still shrugs him off sharply.

“No, that’s okay.”

“Best burgers in town,” he offers, unfazed. Billy gives her a pleading look, and she sighs.

“Alright. Which way, you said?” The mechanic jumps to attention, gesturing over his shoulder.

“Just around the corner, there’s a gravel road you can follow. Take a left at the end, and you’ll run into the place.” Rachel musters a polite smile in his direction and starts off towards the hedge-lined path, only glancing back to make sure the lanky boy is following.

“Sorry,” Billy says when his long strides bring him to Rachel’s shoulder, “I missed breakfast.”

“Yeah, well,” she huffs, arms crossed, “you’re old enough to be responsible for your own schedule, so if this happens again, I don’t want to hear about it.” Rachel moves away, rolling her shoulders in a vain attempt to loosen the tight knots there, but it’s impossible to relax when she’s expecting another comment about her personal life any minute. But her charge shuffles along silently beside her, and she lets her mind wander, trailing her hand through the hedges and fiddling with a leaf that comes away in it. 

Glancing at Billy, she bites her lip at his downcast expression. She hadn’t meant to be harsh, only to discourage his invasive line of questioning. Honestly, even if these kids are discussing her sexuality, what in the world would possess him to _tell_ her about it? Why did it matter? Where had Margot even gotten the idea from? Margot—Margot hadn’t seen her with Lana, had she? It reminds her of the hickeys she’s hiding beneath her shirt, and Rachel tugs her cardigan over her stomach. The questions burn on the tip of her tongue as she looks at Billie again. She tries—honestly, she tries—not to ask.

“So what made Margot think I was—“

“That story you told? About the girl kissing you?” _Oh_. She looks away, letting out a breathe in relief even as heat crawls up her neck. "She just got it into her head that, ‘cause you didn’t rat the other girl out, you must be a lesbian.” 

“Oh.” She almost laughs, lips parted in disbelief. She tells her students she played a romantic lead opposite another girl, and this is what they took away from it?

“I told her that’s not what you meant.”

“Ugh.” Rachel shakes her head, lost in her own mental rant, and it takes a moment for Billy’s words to sink in. She slows when they do, looking at him curiously.

“What did I mean?” Billy grins, and she thinks vaguely that she shouldn’t be encouraging him. Encouraging him in what, she has no idea.

“Is that a teacher question?” he jokes.

“No.” No, because a teacher asking this would be completely inappropriate. She moves closer as he looks away. "No. You think you know what I meant. Tell me.” He chuckles, not meeting her eyes. “Tell me.” Suddently , Billy bends to pick up a stick, lips pursed as he contemplates how to explain. “Tell me.”

“Yeah, I—,” he stutters, gesturing with the branch, “you felt like she was doing the right thing. Kissing you.” He looks at her, finally, and the unreadable intensity in his eyes makes her look away. But it’s gone when she looks back, and she smiles and keeps walking. At least there’s hope that one of them won’t be spreading rumors about her love life come Monday. It’s unexpectedly pleasing that Billy defended her to the others, too. He’s a good kid, Rachel decides, with good intentions, even if his boundary issues are worse than Margot’s. At least he understands that her actions were about more than just attraction. Not that there wasn’t attraction. God, she shouldn’t have told that story, shouldn’t have put the idea in their heads. Wincing, she turns back to her follower.

“I’m not…A lesbian. Not that there is anything wrong with that,” she adds pointedly. It’s the truth, but it still makes her feel guilty. Now they’ll assume she’s straight. But she’s a coward and ridiculously attached to her privacy, and she sighs in relief when Billy shrugs.

“Sam’s gay.”

“I know.”

“He came out to me last year. It’s pretty cool.”

“It’s cool.” Billy fiddles with the stick he still carries, and she stays quiet, sensing there’s something more he wants to say.

“He has a lot of friends.” Billy chuckles, but there’s something sad about it that pangs her heart.

“He’s easy to be around,” she responds carefully.

“I don’t really have a lot of friends.” There it is. It’s hard to resist the urge to put a hand on his shoulder, but she settles for words instead.

“I don’t either.”

“You don’t?”

“Mm-mmm. I’m…tough.” She shrugs, laughing lightly. it’s easier than she thinks to relax, now that she understands. He’s a lot like her—always waiting for someone else to jump in first, to give the signal that it’s okay. Maybe that’s why he’s been so pushy. 

“Me, too. Uh…” Rachel watches the ground, mulling over the direction their conversation has taken.

“How are we talking about this?” Billy halts and turns to her.

“I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm really sorry it took so long, y'all. Hope it turned out alright--the breakfast scene turned out like, twice as long as I thought, and writing Billy's talk with Rachel was a bitch. Only three more chapters and an epilogue to go, so please bear with me! 
> 
> Shameless Self-Promotion Sidenote: I run an AHS blog on Tumblr, so if anyone is interested, you can follow me @its-a-goode-day for writing prompts, info about the new season, and very long rambling text posts about my theories and headcanons


	6. Saturday Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margot chokes on stage, and dinner is a shit show.

Sam comes jogging up to them the minute they enter the hotel, Lana following close behind with a worried frown.

“Where were you guys?” His eyes land on Billy. "You better hope they don’t kick you out of the competition.” Rachel turns to the taller boy, still maintaining a smile as she takes in his guilty expression.

“What is he talking about?”

“Rehearsals. He missed rehearsals,” Sam explains.

“No, no, he said he didn’t have to be there till—Billy.” The smile finally slips, her heart picking up. He’d lied to her.

“I better go.” He excuses himself without meeting her eyes. Lana watches him go before her gaze snaps to the bewildered blonde.

“Where were you?” Sam asks again.

“I—I left—I left a note under your door,” she explains, shaking her head. "I talked to the front desk. Did you—”

“I didn’t get it.” 

“I’m sorry.” She sighs, bottom lip firmly between her teeth. "You really think they’ll kick him out?”

“They take things pretty seriously.” He frowns and jogs to catch up with the taller boy, and it’s only once he’s a safe distance away that Lana steps forward. Rachel’s shoulders sag under her comforting hand.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“I think I fucked up.” Lana looks around, making sure the lobby is mostly clear, before using her thumb to tug Rachel’s lip from her mouth.

“Stop that,” she murmurs, meeting clouded blue eyes. "What happened, Rachel?”

“I just—I was going to get a tire. Billy asked if he could come along—he told me he didn’t have to be at rehearsal. I don’t know, he seemed like he just wanted to get away for a while, maybe wanted to talk, and I was worried if I didn’t let him come with me, he might take off on his own, so…” She shrugs helplessly. “He was complaining about being hungry, so we walked down the road to a diner while we waited for the car and I did—I did get him to talk, a little. I lost track of time, I guess—I—I wouldn’t have let him come if I knew…”

“Hey, whatever reasons he had for lying are on him. You did what any concerned teacher would—kept an eye on him. He probably would have skipped rehearsals no matter what. Now come on, the first round is starting soon.” Squeezing the younger woman’s hand, Lana urges her forward, hovering at her shoulder until they enter the room.  

They find seats next to a nervously fidgeting Margot, Sam in the row before them. Rachel's eyes fix on Billy, sheepishly ducking his head to a female moderator.  She wonders what lie Billy comes up with to make the woman laugh and dismiss him with a wave. The lanky boy jogs back towards with a relieved smile, shooting a thumbs-up to his classmates and avoiding her gaze. Anger and disappointment bubble in her chest even as she sighs in relief that he wasn’t kicked out. A slight man with a clipboard strides to the front of the room, and the chatter dies down as all eyes turn to him. 

“Alright, welcome to round one! It’s a big day today. Today we learn what’s you, what’s me, and what’s us...Okay. First up is the group from Franklin High School. Uhhh...let’s start with Margot Jensen.” As Margot shuffles past them, Rachel and Walter lock eyes. She ducks her head quickly with a guilty blush, but Lana catches her line of sight and waves at him until he looks away. Rachel nudges her shoulder lightly, laughter tickling her throat. The smile wilts, however, when she turns to find Billy’s questioning gaze on her.

“Hi, I’m Margot Jensen from Franklin High School, and today I’ll be performing one of Blanche DuBois’ monologues from Tennessee Williams’ _A Streetcar Named Desire_.” The young blonde takes a deep breathe, looking up into an imaginary distance with hands poised at her sides. “When I was sixteen, I made the discovery…Love…All at once and much, much too completely.” She pauses dramatically, a hand against her heart. "But I was unlucky.” This time, the pause is longer…and longer. Someone laughs cruelly, and Rachel’s heart drops as she watches Margot give up, balling her fists in her skirt and fleeing. It only takes the teacher a moment to follow, pressing a hand to Lana’s shoulder as she passes. 

Margot has already disappeared by the time she enters the hallway, chewing on her bottom lip as she looks for the girl. Out of the corner of her eye, Rachel sees the bathroom door swinging shut, and quickly pushes inside. She can hear the crying almost immediately, and her eyes land on the single closed stall.

“Margot?”

“I’m not here.” She almost cracks a smile.

“I know. Can I talk to you anyway?” Margot sighs heavily, and Rachel rocks on her feet, waiting.

“I guess so.” Letting out her own quiet sigh of relief, Rachel enters the stall next to Margot, sitting on the toilet seat and hunching towards the wall between them.

“I just want you to know that it’s totally okay to be upset.”

“That was humiliating.”

“It was, wasn’t it?”

“Are you supposed to say that?” Rachel huffs a quiet laugh.

“Would you rather I lied?”

“I guess not.”

“It was humiliating. And it sucks you worked so hard and forgot. But you know what else? It’s gonna be okay.” She sighs. "Not today, maybe, or…or even tomorrow. But there will be a day when this...is okay.”

“The worst part is, I knew I was gonna be terrible.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

“I don’t know,” Margot laughs. "I thought maybe I wasn’t as bad as I thought, or _something_ would click today. But I am just _not_ a good actress.” Rachel gives the wall a tiny, sad smile.

“Well, what are you good at?” Margot scoffs.

“School. And organizing things.”

“That’s true. You organized all of this.”

“And I got Billy to come,” she points out.

“Well, that’s great.”

“He’s so talented. It’d be really good for the school if he won.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think, maybe if he wins, the school might give some money back to the arts program, and we could do a real play again. I mean, the school wouldn’t even pay for this trip—this is our last chance.” Rachel frowns at the tile, questions running through her mind.

“What do you mean the school wouldn’t pay?”

“Um…” Margot hesitates, cursing herself before giving in. "Sam and Billy don’t know this, but my parents paid for this trip.” Her eyebrows shoot up at that.

“Wh—I didn’t even know.”

“Will you—Just please don’t tell them.”

“Of course not,” the teacher assures her. Rachel sighs, thinking of how to cheer the girl up. "Maybe that’s one of your gifts, Margot. And if you’re right, _you_ will be responsible for bringing the arts back to our school.” Her encouraging words are rewarded when the stall unlocks and a puffy-faced Margot shuffles out, looking down on her with a wrinkled nose.

“Are your jeans touching the toilet seat?”

“Yeah.”

“Gross.”

“I’m not gay,” she says in response. Margot’s cheeks go red, laughing awkwardly as she makes her escape.

“I can’t believe he told you that.” Rachel watches her go with pursed lips, questioning her sanity. Apparently, the “opening up” strategy isn’t going to work with Margot like it did with Billy. Or maybe she’s just out of practice. Heaving herself up, Rachel combs a hand through her hair roughly. She’s missed Billy’s monologue, probably Sam’s, too. Hurrying out of the bathroom, she sees Margot standing before the conference room doors. Without a word, Rachel stands beside her, staring at the doors.

 

“I don’t want to go back in,” she admits quietly. 

 

“I won’t make you. I need to go support Billy and Sam, though. Will you be okay by yourself?”

 

“Yeah, I just wanna go back to my room.” Rachel nods. Faint applause leaks from inside.

 

“Okay, then just meet us for dinner at 6, okay? Hey—“ she calls as Margot turns away. “I’m proud of you. You did something scary, and it didn’t go the way you wanted, but you still did it.” Margot’s cheeks tint pink at the praise, but her small smile is genuine as she turns away. Sighing in relief, Rachel pushes through the doors. Sam is practically skipping back to his seat with a wide smile, and she is only moments behind him. Seated beside Lana, three pairs of eyes swivel to hers, stunning her momentarily.

 

“I—I’m sorry I missed both your performances. I had to—“

 

“Never mind about that,” Sam dismisses. “Is Margot okay?” Rachel relaxes, sagging back against her seat.

 

*** 

 

The silence stretches tightly around the dinner table. Rachel fingers drum against it, wanting to talk but unwilling to be the first. Lana sits like a bookend on the other side of their half-circle booth, oblivious as she hastily types notes into her phone. The boys try unsuccessfully to catch Margot’s eye, and the young blonde sighs into her lap, finally lifting her head. 

 

“I’m really sorry I missed your monologues today,” she tells them with a slight smile, “but I’m really proud of you guys for moving on.” The boys chorus their thanks, Margot’s grin widens, and just like that the tension is broken.

 

“Speaking of which, I am _so_ _nervous._  Aren’t you?” Sam eyes Billy, but the taller boy just shrugs.

 

“I get nervous sometimes. Remember?” He turns to Rachel, drawing her from her musings.

 

It takes her a moment to catch up before she nods at the reference. "Oh, right. Yeah. Sometimes.” He playfully nudges her arm, looking at her adoringly, and her smile tightens as she looks away. Lana watches the interaction silently, eyes narrowed in thought, and sees Margot slide her phone into her lap out of the corner of her eye. Their waiter—the same one from the previous night, Lana notices—materializes at her side, then.

 

“Hey, your food should be out in a minute. Sorry for the wait.” His eyes fix on Rachel gesturing down at her wine glass. "Another one? Yes?”

 

“Oh, uh, no,” Rachel decides. "No, thank you.”

 

“Can I get another Diet Coke?” Margot asks.

 

“Coming right up.” He lingers on Rachel as he walks away, and she returns a polite smile. Margot misses nothing, leaning forward eagerly the moment the man is out of earshot.

 

“You should totally give him your number.”

 

“Excuse me?” 

 

“Well—he’s been flirting with you,” she responds.

 

“No, no. He has—he has not—been,” she stammers, shaking her head in tiny, rapid movements.

 

“Oh, he has been,” Lana confirms, lifting a shoulder at Rachel’s glare. It's the truth, even if the younger woman seems blind to it.

 

“Even if he has been, that’s—that’s not a reason to give your telephone number to a stranger.” She's already blushing as she looks away, fidgeting with her napkin.

 

“Unless he’s cute,” Sam amends unhelpfully. Lana snorts a laugh into her wine.

 

“No, that is—that is not a—“ 

 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Margot asks. She recalls, suddenly, that the girl had mentioned having an older sister.

 

“Why are—why are you asking me that?” Lana frowns at the strain in Rachel’s voice; her blue eyes are pleading when they catch each other’s.

 

“So that’s a no?” Margot pushes teasingly. 

 

“Margot,“ the reporter warns softly

 

“What?” Margot goes wide-eyed, looking between them. Rachel shakes her head, incredulous at the girl’s thoughtlessness.

 

“Seriously?” 

 

"Leave Rachel alone,” Billy speaks up, all eyes immediately snapping to his.

 

“ _‘Rachel’_?” The woman in question echoes incredulously.

 

“Woah,” Sam gapes.

 

“What?” Billy looks stunned, confused by her reaction.

 

“What—why did you call me that?” She demands. Billy shrugs.

 

“Feels weird to call you Miss Stevens.” The brunette watches as Margot and Sam shoot each other a grimace, phones simultaneously appearing in their hands. Shit.

 

“Well, it—it  _shouldn’t_.” Rachel sees them at the same time she does, and a fresh flame of embarrassment washes over her face. "It shouldn’t feel weird.”

 

“We’ve been spending so much time together,” he protests earnestly, brow furrowed in confusion and a hurt that Rachel doesn’t understand. But Lana does, and she fights the urge to smack a hand to her forehead. Doesn’t this kid know how _badly_ those words could be perceived?

 

“As Miss Stevens,” the blonde pushes, staring the boy down. Finally, he relents, crossing his arms and slumping with a loud sigh. Rachel’s gazefind hers and quickly dart away, landing instead on her other students. “Phones.”

 

“What?” Margot barely looks up; Sam doesn’t at all.

 

“ _Phones,_ ” she grinds out through her teeth. "On the table. People don’t like it when you’re having more than one conversation.” Lana only feels mildly sorry for the kids. She doubts whatever they were saying painted Billy’s little scene in a pleasant light.

 

“I’m sorry,” Margot mumbles to her napkin. Rachel stares at her hard for a moment, but when Lana tentatively nudges her foot, she crumbles inward. Blinking rapidly, she digs out money for their meal and puts it on the table.

 

 I am gonna take a break,” she tells them, voice even while shaky hands fumble for her purse. "I will see you guys later.”

 

Lana only takes two seconds to glance around the table before getting up to follow, but she still has to jog the distance to match Rachel’s quick stride.

 

“Rachel, hey, wait.” She tugs the taller woman to a stop, hands wrapping gently around her biceps. Rachel sighs, watery eyes painting desperation on her face.

 

“Lana, please, I can’t—“

 

“I’m not going to ask you to come back,” the reporter soothes. “But if you want to talk, I'll have them box up our food when it’s ready, and we can go up to your room…” Rachel shakes her head.

 

“Thank you, but I just—I need to be alone for a while. Go enjoy dinner. Please.” She looks back at the table, where three pairs of eyes quickly look away. Biting her lip, she takes a half step back, out of Lana’s grasp. "I’ll—I’ll see you later.”

 

Only once the blonde has vanished from sight does Lana sigh and turn back towards the table. The students all sit silently as she approaches, Billy looking around the room while the other two dart glances at him and each other. Their phones still sit untouched on the table. Jaw tense, Lana takes her seat.

 

“Well? Anything to say for yourselves?” They all avoid her gaze. Margot shrugs.

 

“I still don’t get what _I_ did wrong,” she mumbles. Lana’s dark eyes narrow at her.

 

“You asked your teacher about her private life. What’s more, you made her very uncomfortable.”

 

“But she’s—“

 

“Your _teacher._  Not your friend, and not your sister.” Her pointed words make the girl blush, and Lana breathes through her nose, tone softening. “Look, guys, I know it can be…weird. She’s not that much older than you. She’s fun and nice, and she cares a lot about all of you. It’s okay that you want to get to know her.” She chews on her lip; Margot and Sam have relaxed enough to look at her, but Billy still slouches, defensive, in the corner. “But as your teacher, it’s her job—and her right—to set boundaries where she feels are appropriate, and you need to respect that—respect _her_. That means addressing her formally unless she says it’s okay not to—“ Billy finally has the good graces to look chastised at this “—and not asking about personal matters. She will tell you the information about herself that she feels comfortable sharing. Okay?”

 

The students chorus their responses, offering her shy smiles, and Lana’s shoulders finally relax in equal parts relief and exhaustion. When the waiter brings their food, visibly deflating at the absence of his crush, she asks him to box Rachel’s up. With any luck, she’ll be able to convince the woman to eat. And to talk to her. Her heart aches at the thought of Rachel close to tears, head buzzing with the need to make sure she’s okay. God, she’s got it bad. If she’s honest, she knew it would happen the moment she set eyes on the intelligent, empathetic English teacher, but it’s official, now. She has feelings for Rachel Stevens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter was rough XD I swear, the entire movie is just a cycle of Rachel getting embarrassed/uncomfortable and drinking about it. Poor girl, she really doesn't know how to cope with attention in the first place, never mind when it's coming from teenagers with boundary issues. I really liked getting to do a scene more from Lana's perspective, though! It's something I've been trying to work in for the last couple chapters and it just wasn't flowing, but this felt like a good one.
> 
> As always, I live for your reviews!


	7. Saturday Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel might have ruined things with Lana, and her bond with Billy grows unexpectedly.

****

“Hey, can I come in?” Rachel offers an bashful smile as she shuffles outside Lana’s door. The reporter takes pity and stands aside, closing the door softly and following Rachel back into her room. Sitting on the corner of the bed, Rachel watches her move towards the mini fridge.

 

“You hungry? I know you said not to bother, but I had them box up your food, just in case.” 

 

“No…not really.” Lana nods, sitting next to Rachel and placing a comforting hand on her arm.

 

“I had a talk with the kids after you left.” Rachel sighs, running a hand through her hair. “Told them that they were acting inappropriately. I think they feel bad about embarrassing—”

 

“Lana, I really don’t want to talk about it.” She laughs bitterly, glaring down at her clasped hands. Lana frowns, shifting closer, so their thighs are touching. Rachel finally looks at her then, intense and unwavering as she boldly places a hand just above her knee. Lana's eyes flicker down when Rachel licks her lips, and they meet hers in a sudden, heated kiss. A little (not unhappily) surprised, Lana lets Rachel dominate the kiss, pulling her closer by the waist. It’s only when Rachel slips her tongue past her lips that Lana notices the faintly bitter tang of alcohol on her breath. Rachel straddles her, one hand already moving to pull the blouse free from her skirt, and Lana grips her shoulders tightly. Severing the kiss, she holds Rachel at arm’s length as much as she can without the woman falling from her lap.

 

“Hey, woah, slow down.” Rachel huffs, pushing her hair out of her face.

 

“What?” Lana purses her lips, looking at her silently. Rachel returns her gaze steadily, but her eyes are glassy and cheeks too flushed for just the result of a make-out session.

 

“How much have you had to drink, Rachel?” The teacher’s eyes narrow in warning.

 

“Not enough that I don’t know what I want, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

 

“It’s not.” Lana brings a hand up to her cheek, keeping Rachel from looking away when she tries. “I’m worried about you, and why you’re drinking in the first place.”

 

“God,” Rachel scoffs, crawling off Lana’s lap and retreating towards the door. “This is not what I came here for.” Lana follows her, brow tight with concern. A warning bell in the back of her head says to back off, that this isn’t her place, but a larger one says that she can’t let Rachel just leave when she is obviously hurting.

 

“It’s okay to be upset about what they said.” 

 

“I’m not upset.”

 

“Bullshit.” The deadpan statement is enough to take Rachel by surprise, and Lana forges onward, tone softening. “You can talk to me, Rachel. I want to help.” Rachel bites her lip on the words she wants to say, heart pounding. For a moment, Lana thinks she’ll give in, but she can almost see as the decision is made. Rachel retreats inward, watery eyes icing over.

 

“No offense, Miss Winters, but why would I talk to you? We had a one-night stand. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me.”

 

Lana doesn’t try to stop her from leaving this time.

 

***  

 

The alcohol helps numb her to the cold as she stands outside on the balcony. She’s stupid, so stupid, and what’s worse is that she actually cares about having hurt Lana’s feelings. It was kind of her to worry, and not her fault that Rachel is so prickly. She didn’t deserve that. God, what is she doing with her life? A knock startles her out of her reverie. For a moment she looks around, wondering if she imagined it, but it comes again. 

 

“Uh, hang on.” She reenters the room, looking around in mild panic at the mess. “Just a sec. Sorry!” She hastily throws empty vodka bottles and a pair of underwear in the nightstand. The person outside knocks again. “Coming!” She finally opens the door, surprised to see Billy on the other side. She smiles tightly, drumming her fingers on the door. Can’t she get one night to wallow uninterrupted? “Hi.” Billy looks at her for a long moment before speaking.

 

“I’m sorry, Miss Stevens.” His smile is lopsided and sincere, and she relaxes just a fraction.

 

“It’s been a weird couple of days."

 

“Are you okay?” She freezes, eyes going wide.

 

“What?” 

 

“I don’t know. You…” She touches her cheeks; no, there are no remnant tear tracks for him to see.

 

“No, I’m…”

 

“I don’t know. You seem like…” He shakes his head, brow furrowed in thought. “...you’re not okay.”

 

“I’m fine.” She answers too quickly, biting her lip and willing him to leave.

 

“I brought you something.” With a silly grin, he holds up a bag of cheese puffs. It’s so ridiculous she can’t help but smile back as he holds them out to her. “‘Cause you missed dinner. Thought you might be hungry.”

 

“Thank you.” She takes them, blushing at the reminder of her behavior. They stand awkwardly for a moment, Rachel bouncing on her heels. Finally, she prompts him. “You should go back to your room.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Okay.” She’s turning back to close the door when Billy makes a sound, dramatically holding up his hand.

 

“What? My hand…Miss Stevens, I can’t—“

 

“Billy,” she warns.

 

“I can’t—I feel an urge to knock on people’s doors.”

 

“Billy. Enough, Billy.” The boy doesn’t listen, strolling down the hall and making her chase him. “Billy!” She hisses. “Billy. Billy!” He jumps suddenly, kicking off from the wall. She prays to God no one inside heard him. “Billy! Go back to your room.” She reaches for his arm, but he dodges past, running back in the direction of her room. “People are trying to sleep. Billy!”

 

“You’re right. We shouldn’t be out in the hallway,” he agrees. His gangly legs outpace her easily.

 

“Billy!”

 

“We should probably go inside.”

 

“Billy! No—Ugh!” He slips inside her room, giving her no choice but to follow. She hesitates at the door, torn between going after him and knowing how badly this could look, but there really isn’t much choice except to shut the door and going to talk to him. The sight she expects is not what she sees: Billy is standing on her bed, jumping. “Billy…What are you doing?” He looks at her without a word. “Why are you doing this, Billy?”

 

“You love asking that question.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“I’m just jumping on the bed.” He shrugs, waving his hands. “Don’t be sad! Don’t be sad! Don’t be sad!” She shakes her head in disbelief. How in the world is this happening to her?

 

“I’m not.”

 

“Don’t be sad!”

 

“I’m not, Billy. I’m not!” Her voice gets louder, all thought of the neighbors disappearing beneath her frustration.

 

“Don’t be sad!” 

 

“I’m not!” She finally breaks, climbing on the bed to face him. “I’m not.” He just looks at her knowingly and keeps jumping. She sighs. There’s no way he’ll leave until she gives in. So, she jumps. And jumps. And it’s so silly that after a minute she can’t help but laugh.

 

“Yeah. That’s a good jump.” They laugh, Rachel grabbing onto Billy’s arms for support as she almost falls. “Excuse me, excuse me.” He jumps around her, and then she does fall, giggling hysterically. Billy jumps off, and she goes after him, both of them running around the room like kids. She chases Billy out on to the balcony, grabbing the railing as she tries to catch her breath. Her eyes scan the parking lot below, but she can feel Billy’s on her and doesn’t know what to say. The warm haze of the last one has worn off, and she wants another drink. 

 

“It’s quite cold out here.”

 

“Here. Take my sweatshirt,” he offers immediately, shrugging it off even as she protests.

 

“No.”

 

“Why?”

 

“No.” He ignores it, throwing the hoodie onto her shoulder. She relents. It’s a sweet gesture, and he looks so much like a puppy waiting for approval. “Thank you.” Tucking her hair behind her ears, she watches distant cars fly past on the highway. For a brief moment, she’d felt so light, and now it’s all coming back. She has no idea what to do except sigh and mirror Billy’s position, resting her chin on her arms.

 

“So…do you have a boyfriend, or…?” She picks her head up, scanning him. Why in the world should he care? But he does, and he’ll only keep asking until she answers, anyways.

 

“No.” She admits. “I don’t have a boyfriend.” 

 

“You ever had your heart broken?” The way he says it makes her look at him again. The sadness in his eyes matches her own. She nods.

 

“Yeah.”

 

"By who?"

 

"When my mom died." She can’t look at him as she says it, but in the silence her eyes dart back, watching for his reaction. She gives an empty smile. "You thought I was gonna tell you a story about...some horrible guy who's ruined—” she huffs a laugh, feeling tears sting at her eyes. “—men for me forever?"

 

“When?"

 

"A year ago."

 

"Tell me about her." He faces her fully, and she crosses her arms, leaning a shoulder against the barrier.

 

"Tell you about her?” She shakes her head, looking down as memories filter through her mind. “How can I—How can I tell you about her?" It’s his turn to look away, looking at his shoes with a shrug.

 

"I don't know, you just...pick somewhere and start. And keep going." His gentle prodding says that he understands. It reminds Rachel of her earlier assessment—he needs people to share with him so he knows it’s okay. And despite the fact that her throat is already sore and cheeks getting hot, she wants to show Billy that he can talk to her.

 

"You wanna hear about my mom?"

 

"Mm-hmm."

 

"Okay.” She looks away, biting her lip on a smile as she thinks where to start. "She, uh, she drove a...blue Volvo station wagon.” Billy smiles, recognizing it as the same car Rachel has. She’d taken it over when her mom got too weak to drive and just never got a new one. “Always listened to the oldies.” Billy’s shoulders jump in a laugh, making Rachel smile. “Um, she was an actress. She did this—this big movie when she was younger, and then...” She shrugs. “And then she had me. It was just the...It was just the two of us. And the acting wasn't enough for two, so she had to get a real job.” She swallows thickly, remembering how her mom had given everything up to raise her. Her voice comes out hoarse. “Um...And then, when I got old enough, she started doing plays after work. And...” She has to clear her throat, mentally begging the tears not to come. Now that she’s started, she has to get through this. Or she never would. “And I would go...I would go watch them. 

 

And there was this, um, this one play that she did, I completely forgot that I was watching my mother. I was just...I was just watching this...This woman. And all the other people on stage were...They were men, and they were...They were all terrible,” she laughs. “And she was just holding them all together. Holding them...Holding them up. And then this, um,” her voice shakes, and the tears overflow almost without notice. “One of the guys had this line that makes her...That makes her character laugh, and...” She can still almost hear it; everything about that night is still so clear in her mind. She takes a deep breath, lips trembling. “And then there she was.” 

 

She tries, she tries so hard to maintain the smile, but her face crumbles when she wipes the tears from her cheeks. Billy rests a comforting hand on her shoulder, and it’s more than she can take. He pulls her in and she clings to him, sobbing against his shoulder. It’s such a relief to be held by someone that it takes her a moment to remember that this someone is her student, and she gasps when she does. Wiping hastily at her eyes and nose, she pulls back, gripping his arms tightly. God, what’s wrong with her? She’s not supposed to cry in front of students. He’s not supposed to be here.

 

"You have to go.” The tears still threaten to spill, and she presses both palms against her eyes, trying to even out her breathing. “You have to...You have to go."

 

"What are you talking about?" 

 

"You have to go. Billy, you have to go." 

 

"What are you talking about?” Billy’s voice is pleading. Doesn’t he get it?

 

"It's time to go. It's time for you to go."

 

“What?" He whispers, finally moving only to stand between her and the doorway.

 

"Come on, you have to go. Billy…"

 

"What? What?" She looks up at him and the innocent confusion on his face and tries to keep the panic out of her voice. If she panics, he’ll want to know what’s wrong, and she does not have the time to patiently explain how a student being alone with a teacher in her hotel room could look. Forcing as much kindness into her order as she can, Rachel puts a hand on his shoulder and pushes him into motion.

 

"I need you to go. Come on. Come on."

 

“Why?" He shrugs her off, planting his feet inside the room.

 

"Billy, please?” She wipes her nose. She cannot start crying again now. “Please, Billy.” He just looks at her, and she shoves him again towards the door. “Go. I need you to go to your room. Go to your room.”

 

"Why?”

 

“Come on.” He spins on her again only a few feet from the door, shattered expression making her heart break.

 

“Why are you making me go?”

 

"Billy…" She shakes her head, hoping the apology is in her tone because there’s no time to say it. She knows he needs someone, but she can’t be that someone in this situation, not when it could—there’s a knock on the door, and her breath catches in her throat. No. This cannot be happening. The pounding comes again. 

 

"Uh, yeah?" Rachel shouts, wiping the tear tracks from her face and trying desperately not to hyperventilate.

 

"Miss Stevens?” Sam’s muffled voice comes from outside, making Billy wince. “Miss Stevens." She doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t know what to—and she’s still wearing Billy’s sweatshirt. Fuck. Tugging it off, she shoves it into Billy’s arms as she brushes past him to open the door.

 

"I don't know where Billy—" Sam breaks off, eyes darting between her and his roommate.

 

"Hi, Sam,” Rachel sighs.

 

"Why are you here?" Rachel presses herself against the door so they can talk. Maybe if she’s lucky it will swallow her whole. Billy shakes his head.

 

"I locked myself out of that room again. I couldn't find you and I was too embarrassed to go downstairs and ask for a new key _again_. So...Miss Stevens is holding me up. But I was just on my way back.” Looking at his calm, sincere expression, it’s no wonder he got out of trouble for missing rehearsal. “What's up?"

 

"Can I come in?” Sam sighs, letting himself into the room before she can say anything, leaving her standing in the doorway gaping like a fish. Resigning herself to the fact that now _two_ students are in her hotel room—is that less suspicious than one?—she closes the door, throwing Billy a warning glance. “The boy I met, the one I've been texting. Well, he texted that he wanted to hang out tonight, so Margot and I found him in the parking lot—"

 

"What were you doing in the parking lot?" She stammers. Sam has made himself at home on her bed, so she perches on the dresser across from him. At least he has the good grace to look ashamed at her question.

 

"Sorry, Miss Stevens.” Her reply is interrupted by another knock on the door.

 

"Miss Stevens?” Margot calls, because of course, that’s just the kind of luck Rachel’s having tonight. Billy opens the door, making Marot jump a little. “Oh. Hi, Billy. Is Sam…"

 

"I'm in here.”

 

"Why did you leave?" Margot beelines for the bed, sitting beside the younger boy.

 

"Sean sucks."

 

"What...What are you all doing out of your rooms?" And why the fuck are they all in hers? Sam ignores her, holding up the forgotten bag of cheese puffs.

 

"Can I?” 

 

"Uh… " Rachel blinks. She looks at Billy, who still hovers against the wall, and back at the other two, finally processing the question. "Yes." 

 

"I didn't say anything 'cause I knew you were into him. But, um, I kinda had a feeling,” Margot says gently, taking a seat next to Sam.

 

"Yeah. Mm-hmm. Sean is an asshole—sorry.” Rachel just waves him off, slumped against the dresser. Lord knows, she’s sworn in front of them plenty this weekend. “And this is a theater competition, so I didn't think that I'd have to deal with this shit. Sorry. I thought...” He sighs. “I mean, I guess I thought that I could meet someone. You know?" Rachel nods. Oh, she knows. With a grimace, she settles down on Sam’s other side.

 

"I didn't say this, but most people suck, Sam. They do. Some of them are wonderful. But mostly they're not. And the weirdest part is, it is...” She bites her lip, shaking her head. “...surprising...every single time. But I am here for you." She pats him on the back, and Margot leans in from the other side.

 

"Me, too."

 

"We are all here—" The door bangs closed as Billy leaves. They all sit in stunned silence for a long moment. Rachel bites her lip, wondering if she should go after him. He’s upset, he could get in trouble or try to leave.

 

“What’s up with him?” Margot asks. Then again, thinking of their moment earlier makes her stomach twist uncomfortably. Every time they talk, it ends being about her issues instead of his. She doesn’t want to cry in front of him again. “Why was he here, anyway?” Rachel starts, gapping at them until her brain catches up.

 

“Oh, um, he just—he locked himself out of his room and was too embarrassed to go down to the front desk,” she lies. “I let him hang out until Sam got back. Sam, you might want to catch up with him, see if he wants back into your room.” She stifles a yawn; crying always exhausts her. “I think it’s time for all of us to go to bed.” The students chorus their agreement, shuffling towards the door. Sam heads off, but Margot lingers, lips pressed together in visible restraint.

 

“Yes, Margot?”

 

“Is Billy okay?” She blurts, immediately blushing. “It’s just, I know he’s had some trouble with school lately—the Gatsby test, and—“

 

“You’re a good friend, Margot,” Rachel stops her, placing a comforting hand on Margot’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’d be glad to know so many people care about him.” Margot ducks her head with a smile.

 

“Right. Goodnight, Miss Stevens.”

 

“Night.” When the door closes, blissful silence finally falls. Rachel scrapes her hair back into a ponytail only to let it fall, dropping into her mattress with a groan. So many things had happened tonight, but Billy is by far the most concerning. There are things he wants to talk about, she’s sure of it. And…talking to him feels good. Having someone who understands and listens feels good, even though it really, really shouldn’t. Rachel scrubs her hands over her face, eyeing the drawer she knows has at least one more bottle of vodka in it, but Lana’s words make her hesitate. With a groan, she rolls away on her side, resigned to a fitful—sober—night of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes this got so angsty! Comments and feedback much appreciated as always! I hope I'm doing Rachel justice--I really don't think she gets how Billy sees their relationship. But her reaction to Sam and Margot showing up and just making themselves at home in her room gets funnier every time I watch this movie.

**Author's Note:**

> I know it kind of drags since I'm literally just copying all the dialogue and actions from the movie, so if anyone has any tips for making it work better, let me know! Kudos and comments are much appreciated <3


End file.
